


Warm

by therewasagirl



Series: BENEATH THESE PAVEMENTS (shells, bones and silence) [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 11:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7047061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therewasagirl/pseuds/therewasagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell me something nice.” She says, a whisper close to his ear. “Something fun we did together.”</p><p>[posted here, after existing on tumblr for a while]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Warm

 

> _My love is honey tongue._  
>  Dandelion wine in a pitcher.  
>  Thirsty love.  
>  My love licks it’s fingers  
>  before it has even fed.  
>  My love is peach juice  
>  dripping down the neck.  
>  Soft hands holding the  
>  jaw open love.  
>  Summer love. Sticky sweet,  
>  sticky sweat love.  
>  My love is alive. Warm.  
>  It lives.  
>  It breathes.
> 
> [Caitlyn Siehl](http://alonesomes.tumblr.com/), _**Warm**_ after _“Love, Gravity, and Other Forces” by Anita Ofokansi_

“Tell me something nice.” She says, a whisper close to his ear. She’s hugging his arm with both of hers, and he can feel every inch of her, warm and close, from her breasts pressed tight against his arm, to her curled legs and her chin  resting on his shoulder. “Something fun we did together.”

He knows this game now. She wants to see if she can remember it, any given moment he tells her about. ( _she thinks he doesn’t know, but she’s spent whole nights looking at pictures of them, videos he told her about. It makes her head ache, but she won’t stop. They don’t talk about that night he found her crying, looking at a life she didn’t remember, trying to hold on to it and watch it slip through her tear-wet fingers._ ) 

It’s not really that strange that his first thought is a jumbled mass of memories from their trip together.

He remembers all the bars they’ve been to, all the 24 hour diners, how she’d steal his pickles and then smile cheekily. That time on deserted beach on the shores of Mexico, distracted for a moment by something he can’t even remember now, and then turning to Felicity and finding her in just her straw hat and a violently-pink pair of bikini bottoms held together by a couple of strings and a breathless wish, arms above he head soaking in the sun with a pleased smile. (’ _I am_ not _getting sand anywhere near my unmentionables, thank you!’ So he’d flipped them over - rolling around in her squeal and happy giggles - and gotten comfortable on their beach towel as Felicity straightened, using her hands on his pecks as leverage and giving him the kind of sun-soaked view that is still imprinted behind his eyelids in technicolor.)_ He still can’t look at her in a bikini without remembering what it felt like to pull lightly at that hot pink string and watch it unravel. 

(’ _We are never having any kind of sex on any beach, ever! Such an overrated fantasy….’ He’d made the mistake of chuckling at her angry mutterings. She’d glared at him, curls everywhere and sun-burnt nose scrunched up. ‘I had sad in places one should never have sand in Oliver!’_

 _A couple of days later she agreed it wasn't really sex on the beach if they were in the car_ )  

How she looked at him one day, as they were driving - he still has no idea what she had been thinking about ( _remembering_ ) but she’d been flushed and her eyes were dark, her pink lips parted. How hadn’t taken her eyes off him as she slid down on the seat, propping her knee on the dash ( _he’d realized what she was doing but just couldn’t believe it_ ), the skirt of her flirty dress fluttering up and she’d done nothing to stop it - she’d actually itched it up higher and let her head fall backwards just as her hand slipped out of view between her thighs. ( _he tells her later, after he’s parked between some rocks only mostly out of view, to never do that again while he’s driving_ ) That particular day had almost ended with them being arrested for public indecency. ( _The smirks she’d given him as she pulled her panties up. ‘Wouldn’t be your first time.’ And how he’d cocked an eyebrow at her. ‘Trying to catch up?’ Her chuckle, warm and soothing against his throat. ‘Maybe’_ )

“Our car broke down on night, we didn’t even know where we were. We spent the night on the back seat.” he smiles at those words. He remembers the mischief in her eyes when she’d dragged him in the back seat, entirely too small for anything really, much less for him to lay down in, so she’d sat him there and straddled him, and proceeded to kiss the living daylight out of him.

He turns his head to watch Felicity furrow her brow in concentration. One of her legs is over his lap and he’s running his hand up and down over it absentmindedly. Her smile is soft, almost tentative.

“I wanted to make out. That’s what I said isn’t it? ‘I want to make out like teenagers’.”

It’s _exactly_ what she’d said, biting her lip and giggling as they tried to settle in the tiny back seat.

She beams at him, untangles her arms from around his and slides forward until her thighs bracket his hips, her arms around his shoulders loosely. She brings her face close, just as she had that night and Oliver smiles wide as both his hands make his way up her thighs down her calves, grasp at her ankles and pull her even closer.

“Hi.” She says softly, right against his lips. He brushes them with his, so light it tinkles. Felicity takes the invitation and slants their mouths together. They kiss until they’re both warm again with it, until Oliver melts against the sofa and she’s almost liquid heat against his chest, hands feeling his shoulders, his back his head.

She pulls away to breathe a full breath, and looks at him with hooded eyes and an amused smile.

“Though I have to admit, very little of what we did that night had ever crossed my mind when I was a teen.” She says around that smile that hasn’t left her face in hours. “I fixed the car the next morning too.”

And she sounds so satisfied when she says that. Just as she had that morning, when she’d looked at him with a smudge of car grease across her cheek and her hair in a messy disarray, telling him _‘Pff, I’m no engineer, but I could totally break this car apart and build it up again_.’

Which had lead them to the story about one of her exes who was deeply into monster trucks and the origin of her fear of needles which later turned just a little bit anxiety inducing, after the Count tried to kill her with one.

She remembers those things now, and Oliver watches as it dawns on her. Watches for her flinch, expects it. Holds her with gentle hands that don’t constrain ( _he knows better now_ ) as the memory recedes, falling into place. Another piece of her life she just got back. Usually she goes still and silent afterwards, for hours, but this time she just sighs and lets her forehead rest against his throat, curling her fingers on his collar. 

One breath. Two. Three. They fall asleep that way and it’s an accident. They don’t really sleep on small spaces like couches anymore since that time she woke up with a start and fell off, almost hitting her head on the table. But they’re lucky this one time - neither wakes up from a nightmare. Neither scares the other out of sleep. It’s a rarity that becomes a regularity.


End file.
